The black raspberry pie was still warm against my ribs when I pushed open the screen door. The bottom hinge had been sticking for years, and my parents’ house in Circleville never fixed anything until it broke completely. Inside, the weekend chaos was in full swing. Dad was reclined in the living room watching a Reds game.
Mom moved in quick, efficient circles around the kitchen island, managing six-year-old Thea and eight-year-old Sable. At the dining room table, my sister Darcy stood in the white glow of a ring light, holding up a floral blouse for her live stream audience. I set the pie on the counter. “I got the promotion,” I said, reaching for dessert plates.
Senior clinical specialist. I’d accepted the offer that morning. It meant moving to Raleigh to take over the triangle territory, a 15% raise, and a relocation allowance. My transfer date was three weeks away.
“That’s wonderful, honey,” Mom said, wiping down the counter without breaking her rhythm. Dad didn’t look away from the 3-2 pitch. Nobody asked another question. I stood there holding the plates, waiting.
Ten minutes later, Mom called everyone to the table. Dad muted the television mid-pitch and came in. Darcy was still wrapping up her stream. I tried once more.
“I’ll be moving to North Carolina on the 18th. ”
Dad looked up from his plate. “North Carolina. ”
Before I could answer, Darcy’s eyes snapped to her phone.
“Oh my god, you guys. We just passed two grand on this live. ” She leaned in, grinning. “Seriously, thank you.
”
Mom clapped her hands. “Darcy, that’s incredible. ”
I picked up my fork and didn’t fight for the floor. When Sable struggled with her chicken, I reached across and cut it into pieces.
When Thea dropped her fork, I got her a clean one. I wiped up spilled milk with a paper towel. Nobody assigned me those jobs. I just noticed them first and did them.
In our family, attention went to whoever needed something most. Darcy, four years older, had a chaotic charisma that constantly created emergencies—shipping orders, child care, last-minute favors. She’d been raising the girls mostly alone since her divorce. Mom always focused on whoever seemed to need the most help.
Dad hated conflict and waited for things to blow over. I paid my bills, lived alone in an apartment south of Columbus, and usually said yes before checking my calendar. Because I had things under control, everyone assumed I could take on one more thing. After lunch, Mom cut the pie.
I carried a mug of coffee to Dad in the living room. “Thanks, kiddo,” he said, eyes already back on the game. As I walked to the kitchen, I thought maybe I should have waited for a commercial break to announce the promotion. It was easier to blame my timing than admit how much the dismissal bothered me.
That evening, the silence of my apartment pressed in. I sat on the sofa and typed into the family group chat: *Accepted the promotion. Moving to Raleigh in 3 weeks. *
The read receipts appeared.
A minute later, Mom posted a picture of Sable and Thea eating pie. Darcy followed with a screenshot of her sales total. They had all seen my message. Nobody asked about the job.
Nobody asked about the move. I placed my phone face down on the coffee table, pulled my knees to my chest, and cried. I didn’t draft a speech or decide to cut them off. I just sat there until it passed.
In three weeks, the U-Haul would be heading south on US 23. I had wanted them to celebrate with me. Instead, I had a feeling they wouldn’t really understand that I was gone until they needed me for something and I wasn’t there. My final weeks in Ohio disappeared into cardboard boxes.
The relocation money vanished into my early lease termination fee, the truck, the trailer, the fuel. Every box I packed reminded me of a favor I’d done. Packing my winter coats brought back the four vacation days I’d spent at Darcy’s kitchen table fulfilling boutique orders. Finding my name badge reminded me of the PTO day I’d burned to watch Sable and Thea so Darcy could attend a retail expo.
Two weeks before my announcement, I had driven Mom all over Columbus hunting for the exact shade of blackout curtains Darcy wanted. I had joked that day that everyone assumed I was always free. Mom adjusted the sun visor. “Darcy has two little ones.
She needs more help than you do. ”
I nodded and let it pass as one more ordinary family favor. Three weeks after that lunch, the apartment was reduced to echoes and carpet indentations. I loaded the last tote into the back of a fifteen-foot U-Haul.
I hadn’t issued an ultimatum in the chat. I hadn’t requested a farewell dinner. A quiet, stubborn part of me hoped somebody would remember on their own. Another part knew that staying quiet spared me the humiliation of asking to be noticed again.
I pulled down the cargo door, circled the rig, and checked the straps the way the rental employee had shown me. I climbed into the cab and turned the key. My phone vibrated in the cup holder. A text from Mom: *Can you come home this weekend?
Darcy has a huge live stream Saturday and needs someone to watch the kids. *
I stared at the message. In her head, I was still the person she could call whenever Darcy needed help. My fingers twitched with the old reflex.
I started drafting an apology. *I’m so sorry. Maybe I can find a sitter—*
I stopped. I typed, *I can’t.
I’m moving to North Carolina today. *
The U-Haul was pulling out of the complex before the screen went dark. Three hours later, at a rest stop in Kentucky, the phone chimed again. *You mean you’re really leaving today?
*
Mom had heard I was moving. She even knew the date. But until my absence interfered with something Darcy needed, it hadn’t sunk in. I slipped the phone into my pocket and didn’t reply.
I had nothing left to explain. As the Midwestern sprawl gave way to the Appalachian foothills, old memories surfaced. My eighth birthday, when Mom moved the party into the kitchen because twelve-year-old Darcy and her friends had taken over the living room to rehearse a presentation. The empty chair at my high school graduation because Dad was late, delayed by driving Darcy home from a disastrous job interview.
The dinner for my first clinical promotion, sitting quietly in the booth while Dad watched the game and Mom helped Darcy compare apartment listings. Nobody talked about my promotion by the time the food arrived. There had never been one unforgivable moment. Only repetition.
My milestones were postponed, shortened, or pushed aside whenever Darcy produced something more urgent. I arrived in Raleigh exhausted, ate a pulled pork sandwich while sitting on a taped moving box, and spent the next day unloading the truck. My new territory included larger hospital systems and a dense network of outpatient clinics. I learned unfamiliar administrators and new surgical teams.
During my first week, I realized twenty minutes before a presentation that I had forgotten to charge a demonstration unit. I plugged it into the car charger and silently begged the battery to last. I missed Ohio. There were evenings when I opened Mom’s contact, stared at her name, and locked the screen again.
Distance protected my calendar. It didn’t shake the feeling that being useful was the only way to stay close. A few weeks after the move, Mom hosted Aunt Karin’s birthday lunch. The group chat buzzed.
*Are you coming back Saturday? If you are, can you get here by 10:00? I need help setting up folding tables. * And Darcy could use help with the girls.
At least Mom remembered I lived in Raleigh now. What hadn’t changed was her assumption that I might still make the trip. I typed, *I’m not coming this weekend. I’ll call Aunt Karin on her birthday.
*
By Saturday afternoon, the chat lit up again. Mom had kept thinking I might surprise them. Darcy said Sable had asked whether I was coming. Dad said relatives had asked about me.
They knew I lived 500 miles away. They still treated staying in Raleigh as a choice I was making against them. Mom called Sunday evening. “It was so difficult without you.
Dad had to leave a conversation to unfold tables. Sable kept asking when Aunt Lenia was getting here. ”
The guilt hit immediately. I loved those girls.
They hadn’t created any of this. But as Mom kept talking, another fact became impossible to miss. The party had happened. Dad had carried the chairs.
Mom had managed the food. Everybody survived. “Mom, I told you I wasn’t coming. ”
“I know.
I just thought you might make the drive for family. ”
That bothered me more than forgetting would have. She knew where I lived. She simply hadn’t adjusted her idea of what I was supposed to do.
Before I could argue, she changed the subject to Darcy’s boutique. Online sales were so strong that Darcy was looking at brick-and-mortar storefronts in downtown Circleville. “I have to go, Mom. ” I ended the call.
Afterward, I realized I had ended a family conversation without first making sure no one was upset with me. By mid-October, the annual pumpkin show took over downtown Circleville. For my family, it was practically its own season. Mom texted to ask if I was coming home.
I replied that I was staying in Raleigh. Ten minutes later, she sent a single disappointed face emoji. Nothing else. No argument, no campaign from Darcy.
I stared at the little face on the screen. It was the first time I had disappointed her and watched nothing terrible happen afterward. Two years after I drove the U-Haul out of Ohio, I turned thirty. I had still not been back to Circleville.
The first Christmas, work had kept me in North Carolina for part of the week, and I used the excuse more eagerly than I admitted. The second year, I spent Christmas in Raleigh with friends. Staying away stopped feeling like a temporary decision and started feeling normal. Contact with my family thinned without completely breaking.
The group chats still carried birthdays, holiday greetings, and school pictures. Through them, I watched Darcy open the brick-and-mortar storefront she had been planning. I typed, *Congratulations. It looks beautiful.
* Darcy replied with a red heart. Meanwhile, Raleigh had become familiar. I trained new employees, handled complex regional implementations, and earned another promotion—regional clinical manager. This time, I did not call Ohio with the news.
I celebrated on a Thursday night over dinner with two colleagues who understood what the title meant. I also bought a home—a modest two-bedroom condo in North Hills, an expensive part of Raleigh, but the older unit fit my budget and sat close to I-440. I painted the living room sage green, bought a comfortable gray sofa, and adopted Harlon, a standard poodle with an uncanny ability to notice when I was upset before I did. Harlon was how I met Coulter, whose beagle Rowan kept tangling his leash around Harlon’s at the dog park.
The dogs repeated the maneuver often enough that Coulter and I eventually stopped pretending our conversations were accidental. He worked at a rehabilitation device startup and had a calm, unhurried temperament that initially made me suspicious simply because I wasn’t used to it. One evening, we were eating grilled salmon at my kitchen island when my phone vibrated across the counter. Family group chat.
Coulter pointed with his fork. “Do you need to check that? ”
I considered the question. “No.
”
“Then keep eating. ”
So I did. I finished my dinner without reaching for the phone once. For the first time, being unavailable to my family for an hour didn’t feel like something I needed to apologize for.
In early fall, my cousin Javi, twenty-two, driving north through the Carolinas on a road trip, asked if she could stop in Raleigh. She stayed two nights. We boiled pasta, drank wine on the balcony, walked Harlon, and talked for hours about her friends and the jobs she was considering after college. She didn’t need child care.
She didn’t produce an emergency. I hadn’t realized how relaxing it could be to host a relative without being put to work. Before leaving, she took several photos of the condo, then set a timer and took a picture of the two of us on my sofa. She posted it online with the caption, *Weekend at cousin Lenia’s new condo in North Hills.
Still can’t believe she bought this place all on her own. *
The messages started the next morning. Mom commented that I looked well. Javi texted to say Darcy had privately asked whether North Hills was expensive.
A few days later, Mom sent me a direct message. *How are you? * Darcy texted that the condo had beautiful natural light, adding that she had no idea I was doing well enough to buy a place in North Hills. I started wondering why the sudden interest felt so different from the silence of the previous two years.
Two days later, Mom called. “Your dad and I were talking. We want to drive down to Raleigh this weekend. Darcy and the girls want to come, too.
We’ll get rooms at one of those chain hotels near the highway. ”
I sat on the edge of my bed. “Why the sudden trip? ”
“It’s been too long since the whole family was together.
”
I wanted to believe her. More accurately, I wanted the visit enough that I was willing to leave room for the possibility. “I’d love to see everybody. I have some work things I can’t move, but come over Saturday afternoon.
”
Friday evening, I told Coulter the plan while we sat at his kitchen table. He knew enough about my family by then not to tell me how exciting it was. “How are you feeling about it? ” he asked.
“I want it to go well. ”
“That wasn’t really what I asked. ”
I looked at him. “Nervous.
”
Before I left the next morning, I dropped Harlon at Coulter’s place with his food, leash, and favorite rope toy. “You okay? ” Coulter asked. “Ask me again in six hours.
”
He kissed me once, quick and familiar. “Call me if you need anything. ”
“I will. ” I knew there was a decent chance I wouldn’t.
The old urge to make everything perfect came back immediately. I wiped the kitchen counters twice. I straightened books that were already straight. I fluffed pillows nobody had touched.
I was standing at the island with a microfiber cloth when I caught my reflection in the oven door. The condo was already clean. I wasn’t cleaning for them anymore. I was trying to make sure they couldn’t find anything wrong.
I put the cloth down. I left my coffee mug in the sink and a small stack of mail on the counter. My walking shoes stayed beside the front door. Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Mom hugged me first and held on a beat longer than usual. Dad followed with a brief, solid squeeze. Darcy barely made it through the doorway before Sable spotted me. “Aunt Lenia!
” She hurried past her mother and threw both arms around my waist. Thea wrapped herself around my side. For a few seconds, I had both girls pressed against me. “When did you two get this big?
”
Sable rolled her eyes. “You always say that. ”
Thea grinned. “I lost another tooth.
” She opened her mouth and pointed at the gap. “I see that. ”
The tour took less than five minutes. Mom paused beside me on the way back.
“You really did all this yourself. ”
“Not all at once. ”
She looked around once more. “Well, you did good.
”
Darcy was already heading toward the bakery box she’d brought. “I think Thea has waited long enough. ”
Mom found a serrated knife and cut the dense chocolate cake covered in fudge rosettes while Darcy collected small plates. The girls settled on the rug near the coffee table.
Dad took the corner armchair. Mom and Darcy sat on the gray sofa. I sat across from them. For the first time since they arrived, all six of us had settled in one place.
I held my slice on my lap without taking a bite. The conversation stayed easy. Dad told me about a nervous left fielder on the youth team he’d been helping, a kid who dropped three pop flies before finally catching one. By the time Dad finished imitating the boy’s terrible glove position, I was laughing hard enough to steady my plate.
Then Dad looked at me. “So, regional clinical manager. ” He got the title exactly right. “How many people do you manage now?
”
“Twelve. Across three states. ”
For once, somebody was asking about my actual job. I told them about the travel, the hospital accounts, the people I managed.
Mom asked how often I flew. Darcy wanted to know if I liked Raleigh. For a few minutes, the questions felt ordinary. Then Mom looked around the condo.
“I still can’t believe you bought this place and never told us. ”
“It just never came up. ”
Darcy glanced toward the windows. “Javi said North Hills is expensive.
”
“It can be. ”
“Is the mortgage high? ”
“It fits my budget. ”
Mom tilted her head.
“What does a regional job like yours pay? ”
I looked at her. “Enough. ”
“Do you have one of those huge HOA fees?
”
“It’s manageable. ”
“How much did you have to put down? ” Mom asked. The questions were coming too quickly.
I set my untouched plate on the coffee table. “The condo works for me. That’s about as detailed as I want to get. ”
A brief silence followed.
Darcy glanced at Mom, then looked at the girls. “Sable. Thea, why don’t you take your stuff into the second bedroom for a little while? ”
“Why?
” Sable asked. “Because the adults need to talk. ”
They gathered their coloring books and tablets and disappeared down the hallway. A moment later, I heard the door settle almost closed.
Darcy waited until they were out of earshot. Mom leaned forward and set her plate down. “Darcy is having some trouble,” she said. The easy afternoon was over.
Darcy cleared her throat. The bright confidence she used on live streams was gone. “The store isn’t working. ”
The physical storefront had been open eight months.
Walk-in traffic never came close to what she expected, while the rent, utilities, insurance, payroll, and inventory added up. She had decided to close it. The problem was getting out of the lease. She had personally guaranteed it.
Between final payroll, employment taxes, vendor invoices, remaining rent, and inventory, she estimated roughly $39,000 in remaining obligations. Mom and Dad had already contributed savings when Darcy opened the store and again three months earlier when a slow month left her short on payroll. They were done putting retirement money into it. Darcy looked at her hands.
“I can cover maybe nine thousand between cash, the clearance sale, and fixtures. ” She looked up. “That still leaves me about thirty short. I need a loan, Lenia.
Thirty thousand dollars. ”
My first thought wasn’t about whether I had it. It was about what saying no would do to the room. Mom rested a hand on Darcy’s knee.
“You’re the most financially stable person in this family. ”
Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “Your mother and I have gone as far as we’re comfortable going. ”
Darcy leaned forward.
“Once I’m out from under the storefront expenses, the online side can carry the business again. I can pay you monthly from that. ”
The request sat heavily in my chest. I had spent years wanting to be noticed for something other than being dependable.
Now they had driven 500 miles to tell me that being dependable was exactly why they needed me. I immediately wanted to fix it, so I started asking questions. Had she gotten the landlord’s buyout number in writing? Not yet.
Were the vendors giving payment terms? Most agreed to ninety days. What was she selling from the store? Racks, display tables, mirrors, mannequins.
Her answers told me she had a plan. Halfway through, I realized I was turning her store closure into another project for myself. I stopped. “I need to think.
”
Darcy stiffened. Mom said, “You don’t have to decide this second. We’re at the hotel all weekend. ”
I stood and went down the hallway.
From behind the nearly closed door, I could hear Sable and Thea talking quietly. I closed my bedroom door and stood there with my hands on the knob. Then the bargaining started. *Just give her fifteen.
* The number came so easily it frightened me. Half the loan, maybe half the argument, maybe enough to make everybody breathe again. I sat on the edge of the bed. My hands were shaking.
From the living room came the faint scrape of a chair. Farther down the hall, Thea laughed at something Sable said. I pressed both palms against my knees and waited until my breathing slowed. Then I stood and opened the door.
Nobody was talking when I came back. Mom picked at the edge of a paper napkin. Darcy sat rigid and looked up as I rounded the corner. I sat in the accent chair across from them.
I looked at my sister. “I’ve thought about it. I’m not going to lend you the money. ”
For a second, Darcy just stared.
“Not any of it? ”
“No. ”
Her face flushed. “Why?
”
“I don’t want my money involved in the business, and I do not want to lend you thirty thousand dollars. ”
“It’s a loan,” Darcy said, her pitch rising. “I’m your family. I’m telling you I’m drowning, and you’re just going to leave me to handle it entirely alone?
”
The old urge came back. Apologize. Soften it. Offer something smaller.
Make the panic in her face go away. I didn’t. “You aren’t alone, Darcy. You have a plan for closing the storefront.
You’re negotiating the lease. The vendors are working with you, and the online business is still running. You have a plan to get through this. I’m just not financing it.
”
Mom crumpled the napkin in her fist. “Lenia, your father and I have done a great deal for both of our daughters. We have always stepped up when either of you needed us. ”
Dad shifted, the leather creaking.
“We wouldn’t be here asking you this if we weren’t genuinely worried. ”
“I helped you move into your first apartment,” Darcy said, her voice hardening. “I drove the rental truck. I carried your boxes up three flights of stairs in July because you couldn’t afford movers.
I have always been there for you. ” She gestured around the living room. “I cannot understand how you can sit here living this comfortably and watch your sister carry almost forty thousand dollars in obligations without lifting a finger to help. ”
None of them was lying.
Mom and Dad had helped us. Dad was genuinely worried. Darcy really had driven that truck and carried my boxes. “I know,” I said quietly.
“I know you helped me, and I know you’re worried. ”
My answer was still no. Darcy watched me, waiting for me to soften. I didn’t.
“You’re so cold,” she said, quieter than everything before it. That made it hurt more. I wanted to list everything I had ever done for her—the PTO days, the shipping orders, the child care, the errands—as though enough evidence could prove I was a good sister. But nothing I said was going to make them like my answer.
“You’re entitled to think that,” I said. Mom placed both hands on her knees. “Nobody wanted this trip to become an argument. We drove down because we wanted to see you, Lenia.
We can still have the rest of the afternoon. ”
She was offering me a way back in. Looking around the living room, I realized I still wanted them to stay. That was the hard part.
I could ask for paperwork, turn the problem into a project, give everyone enough hope to make the afternoon comfortable again. But I didn’t want to keep them there by pretending my answer might change. I stood. “I do want you here.
But if the rest of the visit is going to be about changing my mind, then we’re done for today. ”
Darcy stared. “You’re kicking us out. ”
“I’m saying the conversation about my money is over.
”
“That’s not what you just said. ”
“No. I said if you’re going to keep pushing me about it, we’re done for today. ”
Mom stood.
“Lenia, come on. ”
“You don’t have to agree with me, Mom. ” I looked at Darcy. “My money, my time, and my home cannot keep being the backup plan every time something goes wrong.
”
Darcy stood abruptly. “Do you just see this whole family as a burden now? ”
I didn’t answer. “You move five hundred miles away.
You haven’t come home in two years. And now every time somebody asks you for something, it’s some kind of violation. ”
“That’s not what I said. ”
“It’s exactly what you’re saying.
”
“No, Darcy. I said I’m not giving you thirty thousand dollars. ”
“It’s a loan. ”
“And I said no.
You keep saying that like it makes the rest of this disappear. ”
“What rest? ”
Darcy gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “All of it.
Everything everybody has ever done for you. ”
“I never said nobody has done anything for me. ”
“You sure act like it. ”
“Stop.
Stop looking around my house like it proves I owe you something. ”
“I’m looking around because I’m trying to understand how thirty thousand dollars is apparently impossible for you when it could keep me from drowning. ”
“I never said it was impossible. ”
The room went completely still.
Darcy stared. “Then what are you saying? ”
“I’m saying I’m not doing it. ”
She shook her head.
“Wow. ”
“How many times do you need me to say no? ”
“There it is. You’ve been keeping score this whole time.
”
“You’re the one who just brought up helping me move. ”
Dad lifted one hand. “Enough. ” He didn’t need to be loud.
Mom pressed her lips together. Then she looked toward the hallway. “We should go. ”
The words hurt more than I expected.
She called toward the second bedroom. “Girls, get your things. We’re leaving. ”
Darcy picked up her tote and went to the entryway without looking at me.
Dad stood, put on his shoes slowly, and looked at me with no anger in his face. Mostly sadness. “I wish this had gone differently,” he said. “So do I.
”
He gave a small nod and followed Darcy outside. Sable appeared with her activity book and tablet. Thea followed with her coloring book and pencil pouch. They stopped when they saw Mom putting on her shoes.
Sable looked at me. “Are we still seeing you tomorrow? ”
My throat tightened. “I don’t know, sweetheart.
”
Her face fell just enough for me to notice. Then she walked over and wrapped both arms around me. I bent and hugged her back. For a second, she was eight again in my memory, sitting at Darcy’s kitchen table while everyone else was busy.
Except she wasn’t eight anymore. She was ten, and she was holding on to me because the adults had ruined the afternoon. Thea pressed herself against my side. “Why are you sad?
”
“I’m okay. ”
It wasn’t a very good answer. She studied my face like she knew that, then hugged me anyway. “Bye, Aunt Lenia.
”
“Bye, Thea. ”
Sable let go last. “Can I text you? ”
“Anytime.
”
Mom stood by the open door waiting for them. I thought she might say something. She didn’t. She simply touched my arm as she passed, then led the girls into the corridor.
I stayed in the doorway until they disappeared around the corner. Then I closed the door. The condo went quiet. Not peaceful—just quiet.
I sat on the edge of the sofa and pressed one hand against my abdomen. I pulled out my phone and called Coulter. He answered on the second ring. “Hey.
”
“They left. ”
“Okay. ”
“It didn’t go well. ”
“Do you want to talk about it?
”
“Not really. ”
“Okay. Can you bring Harlon back? ”
“Yeah.
”
“And maybe food? ”
“Anything specific? ”
“No. ”
“Okay.
Can you stay for a while? ”
“Sure. ”
About half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Coulter stood outside with Harlon’s leash in one hand, a six-pack of cold beer under his arm, and a paper bag in the other.
Harlon pushed past him the moment I opened the door and pressed his whole body against my legs. I crouched and buried both hands in his coat. “There you are,” I whispered. Coulter stepped inside, closed the door, and looked at my face.
He didn’t ask what happened. He lifted the bag. “Chicken tenders, fries, barbecue chips. ”
“You went all in.
”
“I panicked in the snack aisle. ”
A laugh escaped me. It sounded strange after the afternoon I’d had. Coulter smiled slightly.
“Good sign. ”
“Don’t push it. ”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. ”
We ate at the kitchen island.
Harlon lay across my feet as though he had decided I might disappear if he moved. I opened a beer and took two sips before realizing I hadn’t tasted it. Coulter picked up a fry. “So,” he said carefully.
“Do I hate everyone now, or am I waiting for further instructions? ”
“They asked me for thirty thousand dollars. ”
His hand stopped halfway to the ketchup. “I said no.
”
Coulter nodded once. That was all. “You’re not going to tell me I did the right thing? ”
“I wasn’t there.
”
I stared at him. He shrugged. “You said no. I assume you had a reason.
”
“I had several. ”
“Then you can tell me when you feel like it. ”
I looked down at Harlon for a while, then told him about Darcy, about Mom, about Dad, about the thirty-nine thousand and the lease, about how different everything had felt once the money came up. I told him about Sable asking whether she would see me tomorrow.
That was where my voice broke. Coulter didn’t interrupt. When I stopped, he pushed the bag of barbecue chips closer. I let out a short laugh through my nose.
“That’s your response? ”
“I’m listening. You’re feeding me. ”
“I can do both.
”
We stayed at the island until the beer went warm and the fries went cold. I still felt sick. I still wanted to call Mom. Part of me even wanted to call Darcy and take back enough of the afternoon to make tomorrow possible again.
I didn’t. For that night, it was enough to sit in my own kitchen with Coulter beside me and Harlon stretched across my feet, without anybody asking me to decide anything else. The next morning, Dad texted that they were leaving Raleigh earlier than planned. He didn’t mention the money.
He didn’t suggest another visit. A few weeks passed. Then Javi called. “I figured you probably heard about the store.
”
“I haven’t. ”
“Oh. Darcy closed it. She did a big clearance weekend, sold most of the fixtures, and moved the rest of the inventory back home.
She’s shipping everything out of the garage again. Mom said she still has some payments to make, but it’s not as bad as it was. The online side’s doing fine. Honestly, I think she should have stayed with that in the first place.
”
I sat down at the kitchen table. “Is she okay? ”
“I think so. Still mad at you, probably.
”
“I assumed. ”
“She’ll get over it, or she won’t. ”
I smiled despite myself. “You make everything sound very simple.
”
“That’s because I’m twenty-two and irresponsible. ”
Nothing dramatic happened after that. My calendar filled with training sessions, flights, and hospital meetings. Haron and I fell back into our morning walks.
Coulter kept showing up. On weekends, when neither of us had plans, we bought groceries together without calling it anything important. One evening, Coulter opened my refrigerator and said, “You own six different mustards. ”
“They serve different purposes.
”
“That is exactly what a person with six mustards would say. ”
I threw a dish towel at him. I still missed them. There were nights when I thought about calling Mom and did not.
There were mornings when a school picture of Sable or Thea appeared in the family chat and I stared at it longer than I meant to. I sent the girls a package with a few small things. Sable mailed me a thank-you note covered in purple stars. Thea sent a drawing of herself, Sable, and me standing beneath an enormous yellow sun.
I taped both to the side of my refrigerator. About six weeks after the Raleigh visit, Mom called. The first thing she said was, “Is this a good time? ”
The question surprised me.
“Yes. ”
A pause. “I’ve been thinking about when we came down. When we got to your place, I barely asked you about your job before I started asking about your money.
I kept telling myself you were fine because you always handled everything. I think I used that as an excuse not to pay enough attention. ”
I looked toward the refrigerator. Thea’s drawing was crooked beneath a magnet.
“I’m not ready to act like everything’s normal yet. ”
“I understand. ”
When we hung up, I stayed at the table for a while. I still didn’t know what came next.
But I didn’t feel any need to figure it out that night. The following evening, Coulter and I were washing dishes at his apartment. I told him Mom had called. He rinsed a plate and handed it to me.
“What are you going to do? ”
“I don’t know yet. ”
“Okay. ”
He turned off the faucet.
A few seconds later, he looked at me. “Why are you smiling? ”
I glanced toward the living room. Harlon and Rowan were asleep on opposite ends of the rug.
My phone was lying on the coffee table. Nothing on it needed an answer before bedtime. “No reason. ”
Coulter raised an eyebrow.
“Very convincing. ”
I laughed. “Give me that plate. ”
He did.
Outside, a car passed on the street below. Inside, we kept washing dishes.